


The Lion and the Hyena

by Kurihara



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurihara/pseuds/Kurihara
Summary: Charismatic and beguiling, chief commander of Sumer’s elite forces, Kiri, is the epitome of the King of Heroes’ fears and prejudices. Yet, while she openly despises him for his arrogance, Gilgamesh is attracted to her ferocity. In the midst of a chase between lion and hyena, a risky love blooms. But can Kiri ultimately claim a heart held by many?Alternate universe. Gilgamesh x Original Character. Rated mature for gore, explicit/implicit sexual content, and strong language.





	1. The Commander

_“Find the commander of the elite forces and bring him back to me this instant! Should you fail, I’ll have your head, lowly mongrel!”_ The King of Heroes’ threatening words echoed ominously in the frail-looking, middle-aged messenger’s mind.

                  Hurrying along the edge of the camp established by the doctors of the elite force, whilst shielding his face from the billowing sand, the messenger peered dubiously into the distance. Aside from the layers and layers of untamable, scorching desert sand suspended in the air, no forms resembling that of humans were seen. _Is the commander really trapped in that deadly sandstorm? There’s no way anything, or anyone, for that matter, can survive there!_

                  Turning around and retreating into one of the tents sheltering the few injured soldiers, the messenger stood by the attending doctor’s side. “Is the commander really in that sandstorm? Isn’t there any way to call him back here?”

                  Rather irritated at the messenger’s pestering, the doctor grumbled, “Listen, our commander does whatever she wants. She’ll come back whenever she wants. If you want to retrieve her, you’ll have to head into the sandstorm. Do you have a steed?”

                  _“She?” Has the desert sand also blown into this uncooperative doctor’s head and affected his thoughts and speech patterns? As far as I know, the King certainly said “he” when His Majesty was referring to the commander._ Realizing that the doctor was right, the finicky messenger turned to the doctor again. “I don’t. I came here by foot. Are there any remaining steeds that I can borrow for the time being?”

                  “No, there aren’t. The Commander’s taken any remaining horses out with her to carry the spoils back.” The doctor muttered, not even bothering to glance up from the hand he was tending to. “You’ll die out there without one though.”

 _Yeah, thanks for telling me something I already knew!_ The messenger almost wanted to shout but restrained himself. _What shall I do? The King will have my head if I’m not back by sundown! Damn that greedy commander and his obsession with collecting those damn spoils!_

                  Pacing back and forth impatiently inside the tent, the messenger eventually stepped back out into the curling sand. Wrapping his veil around his mouth as tightly as possible, he took a deep inhale, and while spitting out grit between his teeth, shouted as loudly as possible, “Commander, the King has summoned you! Please come back with me right now!”

                  As soon as he finished his sentence, an especially overpowering gust of wind and sand blew a mouthful of dirt into his mouth. Coughing and choking, the messenger dashed for the tent. Now, all he could do was pray and wait for the commander’s return.

*

                  The Commander was displeased, to say the least. Among the sheets of sand obscuring the camp from view, she’d heard some feeble messenger’s voice telling her to return. No one ordered her to do _anything._ No one. Even the last king left her to her own devices because she was that skilled at commanding the elite forces, conquering new lands, and maintaining amicable relations with allies. Yet this new king had the nerve to command her to return from her mission!

                  “Commander!” The panicked voice of her second-in-command coming from her left side brought her thoughts back to the current situation. “Some of the men are still trapped back there! What should we do?”

                  _Fuck the King._ Narrowing her eyes, she turned her steed back in the reverse direction. Even the mighty King of Uruk would have to wait.

*

                  The raging sandstorm had long passed before the silhouettes of the elite forces even appeared on the horizon. Apparently, the cursed sand had made them seem closer than they actually were. Emerging from the main tent of the camp, the messenger made out a tall figure that rode ahead of everyone else.

                  “Commander, His Majesty has requested your presence in the Great Hall. Please come with me now!” The messenger called out.

                  There was no reply. Even as the entire cluster of soldiers neared the camp, not even an agonized groan from the injured was heard – all soldiers rode with dignified, straight postures. Hurrying over to the elite forces as they dismounted silently, the messenger stood in front of all the steeds, completely at a loss. The dimming sunlight was making every soldier’s features difficult to make out. Then, a rider, in particular, caught his attention.

                  To his right, a voluptuous, womanly form hopped skillfully off a steed. Thinking that the woman might be the Commander’s wife, the messenger hurried over to her side. “Madam, can you please tell me where the Commander is?”

                  As the amber hues of the sunset reflected in the woman’s irises, he could see that they were of the deepest, richest brown he’d ever seen. However, upon closer inspection, he noticed that her swirling irises were void of any emotion, and exuded an ominous, authoritative aura. Calmly gathering the reins of the steed into her hand, the woman said,” I am the Commander. Speak, messenger.”

                  In all his years of servitude under the King of Heroes, he had never heard of such absurdity. _A woman as Commander of the elite forces? Impossible._ Bursting into awkward laughter, the messenger tried to reason with her, “That’s a witty joke there, milady. But please, for my sake, tell me where the Commander’s whereabouts are.”

                  “You are looking at her. But, if you don’t believe my words, the situation’s completely out of my control.” The woman replied curtly and began walking the steed towards the other soldiers.

                  Practically stamping the ground with frustration, the messenger followed helplessly after the woman and observed as she handed the reins over to a man. “How many men are injured?

                  “Five have sustained minor injuries, Commander.” The male soldier answered respectfully.

                  Eyes widening in disbelief, the messenger sprinted over to the woman’s side and was about to take her by the arm, when the stony grip of the male soldier halted his movements. “You shan’t touch the Commander without permission.”

                  “This _woman_ is really the Commander of the elite forces?” The messenger repeated incredulously.

                  “Hold your tongue, or I shall cut it out for your insolence.” The male soldier growled.

                  Cowering in fear, the messenger watched as the woman spoke up. “Zimu, let the messenger go, and bring Mul back to where the others are.”

                  Bowing, the male soldier eyed the messenger sternly, before reluctantly letting go. Rubbing his sore arm, the messenger addressed the woman, “If you truly are the Commander, please come with me. We must make haste.”

                  The woman’s irises studied him for a second. Strangely enough, she didn’t even seem angered in the slightest that the messenger had doubted her. “Some of my men are injured from our conquest. Had you not rushed us, we would have made it out of the skirmish unharmed. How are you going to make up for this?”

 _First, I’m tricked into thinking that Commander is a man, and now this?_ Sighing, the messenger bowed and apologized, “Forgive me, but I have no means to repay your losses. Please, forgive me, Commander.”

                  Expecting a sharp slap to the face, or even a spear to be thrust mercilessly from any direction, the messenger was bewildered when he heard a couple of footsteps and felt the faint spray of sand around his ankles. Looking up anxiously, he saw the woman glancing back at him. When she spoke, her tone was completely deadpan. “Just kidding. If it’s the expenses, I’ll have His Majesty pay for all of them.”

                  Trotting after the woman, who radiated an infinite amount of confidence, the messenger shook his head from side to side. _What foolhardy words those are._

                  Once both of them arrived at the entrance of the grand palace where the King of Heroes resided, the Commander reached into her cloak and threw a sack at the messenger, who was shrinking back into the shadows of the imposing building in fear. One look at him, and she knew he was sick. His wrists were unnaturally and unhealthily narrow, while his yellowing flesh color showed signs of jaundice.

                  Picking up the jangling pouch carefully, when the messenger peered into the sack to find countless gold coins, he bowed gratefully and murmured, “Oh, thank you, Commander! Thank you a million times over!”

                  By the time the messenger looked up, the woman had long gone.

                  Walking through the carpeted corridors towards the Great Hall, the Commander was soon obstructed by a flock of maids, who were bumbling neurotically over her shabby, armored appearance.

                  “Milady, you must bathe and change before you attend to His Majesty’s summons!” One of the maids cried.

                  The cloaked and veiled woman merely stood there, half-listening to the maids’ buzzing and fumbling around her, fully aware that her armor left dustings of sand wherever she stepped. Her body reeked unattractively of blood, herbs, and sweat. Nevertheless, after allowing the maids to finish mumbling their persuasions, she looked ahead and continued towards the Great Hall.

                  She was a warrior before she was a woman, and this was the second fact that even the revered King of Heroes couldn’t change.


	2. The King of Heroes

                  Striding into the Great Hall with sure steps, the Commander bowed before the King and stood up to gaze upon him for the first time. His unexpected youth and handsome appearance startled her inwardly. With golden blonde locks, piercing crimson irises complete with a judgmental expression, a healthy, muscular physique that would make any woman swoon, she had to admit his looks fitted young maidens’ descriptions.

                  “You summoned me, Your Majesty?” She initiated the conversation in a composed, polite manner.

                  “Lowly woman, you dare attempt a pathetic impersonation of the commander of the elite forces?” The King growled, his tone infuriated.

                  _Ah, so the misunderstanding all started from here, huh? What a chauvinistic man._ Mustering the fakest smile possible, the Commander explained, “I assure you that I am the commander in question, Your Majesty.”

                  “Silence, lowly mongrel!” The King barked, and at an aggressive flick of the wrist, the male lion that had been slumbering quietly behind the throne growled ferociously and leaped towards her.

                  _Are you kidding me? This King of Heroes is acting like a child!_ Cursing under her breath, she dodged the pouncing lion, and while it was still in mid-leap, subdued it with a swift kick to the abdomen. Pinning the beast by its muzzle to the ground with a single foot, the woman gazed back up at the throne.

                  Angered and rather humiliated to see his loyal pet made into a hopeless, weak toy at this random woman’s hands, the King clicked his tongue. “Enough! Woman, get your filthy feet off of my prized pet!”

                  “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” She apologized, albeit half-heartedly, as she lifted her foot off the beast, half-expecting it to claw out her leg.

                  Instead, she watched curiously as the beast licked her leg and let out a submissive mewl, before trudging back to the King’s side. From his throne, the King eyed her suspiciously, “Assuming that you are the commander, why have you not followed the maids and cleaned yourself up before walking into the Great Hall, mongrel?”

                  Knowing that the King could only see her eyes and eyebrows from the gap in her veil, she arched an eyebrow, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. The messenger who fetched me expressed that you were displeased with waiting for my arrival. Therefore, I decided that cleaning myself up would’ve taken up even more of your precious time. Was I wrong in my judgment?”

                  Frowning at the woman’s sharp tongue, he interrogated her once more, attempting to intimidate her into submission. “Woman, why are you the head of the elite forces? Surely an inexperienced and feeble woman such as you cannot effectively command the elite ranks of the soldiers of this great kingdom.”

                  Rather accustomed to the doubt from other men, she gave a terse reply. “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but if you didn’t even know my true gender before this meeting, how are you to know that I am ‘inexperienced and feeble?’ The previous king made me the head of the elite forces, on his better judgment. But, I suppose, if you’ll dismiss me, I can easily find some fat, lazy lord, who has never held a sword in his entire life, to take over my position.”

                  “What did you say, woman? Repeat those words, and I shall have your head!” The King roared, standing up from his throne hastily. Immediately, the guards flanking either side of the Great Hall thrust the sharp tips of their gleaming spears at her throat.

                  Smiling calmly, even in her predicament, she added, “Your Majesty, I would like to ask you to refrain from making further assumptions about my battling capabilities based on my appearance and prejudices. If you would like me to demonstrate my abilities, by all means, pit me up against your best man, and I shall fight him to the death.”

                  “Heh,” the King scoffed, a smirk coming to his lips as he sat back down on his throne and motioned for the guards to return to their stations, “An amusing idea you suggest, _Commander_. But I shall save that spectacle for another time.”

                  “Of course, My King,” she inclined her head slightly, before inquiring solemnly, “Now, Your Majesty, what matter was so dire that you required my presence before you tonight?”

                  “Hmph,” the King uttered triumphantly, “How ignorant. Your father, Aradlugal, has been executed under my orders today for treason.”

                  Gazing down at her arrogantly, the King expected her to crumble into a weeping mess on the palace floor. Although her ears blocked all noise for a split second, and she felt a twinge within her chest, she maintained her cool exterior. Cocking her head slightly to the side, she replied nonchalantly, “Is that all, Your Majesty?”

                  The King stared at her in disbelief, before bursting into peals of amused laughter. “Ha! I should have expected nothing less from a mongrel’s daughter! That foul, backstabbing, disloyal blood sure does run in the family!”

                  When the echoes of the King’s laughter subsided, he addressed her once more, a smirk still lingering on his lips. “Commander, you shall stay the night in the palace. Tomorrow, I shall bestow a suitable punishment on you and the rest of your family.”

                  “As you command.” She bowed, and marched out of the Great Hall, worries spilling out in a deluge.

                  _What has my father done to anger that boy of a king so? And what exactly does the King mean by punishing the rest of the family? We all no longer have parents. What more does he want from us? Oh, Anu, please protect my family from the evil, vengeful intentions of this greedy, unjust bastard._

*

                  Motes of dust danced in the thin rays of sunlight filtering into the room. The woman, lying tangled in the smooth linen sheets let out a whispered curse as she roused from a rather fitful slumber. Sitting up in the spacious bed groggily, the dark circles under her eyes were clear evidence that she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while.

                  As she slid out of the sheets, unclothed, the King’s ominous words resounded in her mind, and she groaned, feeling dread pool at the pits of her stomach. _Of course, if the King had to take anything at all from me, it’d be power. After all, how could he stand a woman – a defiant woman, who practically challenges his every word, no less – to remain in such a high-ranking position? And the source of my power…comes from the men, who follow my orders unquestioningly._

                  Pressing her lips together in dismay, she jammed her feet into her mud-caked, knee-high boots, and slipped out of her temporary quarters. Attempting to navigate stealthily through the unfamiliar, winding halls of the palace, she only succeeded in getting caught by one of the maids, who was carrying a tray with a plate of plump, ripe figs, and a freshly baked loaf of bread.

                  “Milady, where do you think you’re going at such an hour, in such clothes?” The older woman asked, astonished, with an undertone of disapproval.

                  Hardly caring that her robe was rather loosely fastened, she hastily used a hand to cover herself up a little more for the woman’s sake, all the while studying the juicy figs on the tray. Grabbing the basket off the tray, startling the older woman with her abrupt motions, she reasoned hurriedly, “Look, there’s something I need to attend to. No one is to know of my absence. I’ll be back before anyone else rouses. Now, please tell me where the entrance is.”

                  The old maid let out a resigned sigh. She’d heard the younger, greener maids gossiping about a rather intractable guest. Never, in her wildest dreams, would she have guessed that the docile-looking, dark-brown-haired woman, Commander of the elite forces or not, was the one they were whispering about. Pointing to the east corridor, she watched as the woman wasted no second to sprint down the corridor. Heading for the maids’ resting quarters, she shook her head and muttered, “Perhaps, even His Majesty might not be able to tame her.”

*

                  Cradling the basket close to her as she arrived at the barracks, she spotted her second-in-command, Zimu, standing outside the stables, refilling fodder for the horses. Concealing herself underneath a canopy close by, she gave a low whistle. Recognizing the tone, the second-in-command backed away from the horses slowly and approached the canopy.

                  “C-Commander! What are you doing here so early in the morning, and what are we hiding from?” Zimu blushed profusely and stuttered as he bowed, his eyes not-so-discreetly roaming the open expanses of his superior’s chest.

                  Pressing the basket of figs urgently into his hands, she whispered, “I was never here, clear? I wanted a report on our men’s condition after running off to meet the King’s summons last night. So, did all survive treatment?”

                  Hesitantly, Zimu shook his head. “No, I’m afraid two passed.”

                  “Which two?” The Commander practically hissed.

                  Again, Zimu was cautious when answering her question. She’d asked the same question any number of times, yet each time she asked, he was stunned by her memory and dedication to maintaining the health and wellbeing of the men, so much so as to know each soldier’s name by heart, even though there were more than two hundred men within the force. “Ludari and Luninni, Commander.”

                  Nodding, she said, “Hand the figs out to the men. I have to attend to the King’s summons once more. I trust you will visit Ludari and Luninni’s families and offer them adequate compensation on my behalf. Also, should they refuse compensation, send them my way.”

                  Standing pensively for a moment, Zimu refused to answer her. Examining the man’s face, her expression softened by a muscle. “Why do you hesitate, Zimu?”

                  “I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but the King summoned you two days in a row…from what I’ve heard, this cannot be a fortunate sign. Do be careful, Commander.” Her second-in-command cautioned, his downcast eyes studying the patterns of the cracked mud ground

                  Placing a hand on his left shoulder, she gave him a wry smile. “You are not my second-in-command for nothing, Zimu. Don’t give me such an unconfident look when you give me such advice. I, too, know for certain that nothing good can come of this encounter with this new king. If anything should happen to me, I entrust the men to you.”

                  Turning her back to the man, who now bore a horrified expression on his face as he called out after her, “Surely the King cannot lay a hand on you, can he? Ultimately, you are a woman before all else. Surely he can’t treat women cruelly…!”

                  “Perhaps,” she answered tersely and disappeared around the corner.

*

                  Upon return to her quarters without being seen by any of the other maids or guards, she was practically whisked into a tub of rose-scented water and had her skin lathered with five different herbal soaps by three maids, to remove the lingering stench of blood, sweat, and pus. Despite a lot of tugging and protesting to force her into proper clothing fit for high-class women, she refused to cooperate and settled for a simple white, cotton tunic, and even then, insisted on wearing her beige cloak, mask, and veil. Resigned to the woman’s adamant attitude, the maids eventually gave in and allowed her to enter the Great Hall once they realized she wouldn’t budge.

                  Kneeling before the King once more, she heard him click his tongue in displeasure. “Woman, why do you refuse to wear proper attire? Do you wish to anger me that much?”

                  “Forgive me for not accepting your generosity and hospitality, Your Majesty, but I have no need for luxuries. I am used to the battlefield, after all.” She responded simply.

                  “No matter.” The King paused and gestured with a wide sweep of his right arm for those waiting outside to enter, before continuing, “At least the other women in your family are gracious enough to accept luxuries.”

                  Clearing her throat quietly to mask a choked, garbled sound that threatened to escape her lips, she turned around, spotted her sisters, almost unrecognizable from the amount of precious metals and gemstones that covered their flesh, she averted her gaze back to the King, her voice tensing slightly, “Your Grace, why have you brought my sisters to the palace as well?”

                  The King let out a haughty chuckle at the tightness in her voice, relishing in her newly-discovered weakness. Taking his sweet time to descend from the steps before his throne, he walked around her five sisters gathered to her left, openly scanning them from top to bottom shamelessly. “Did you not listen to my words last night? They are no longer _your_ sisters, but _my_ servants. Or whores and maids, to be exact. Your brothers have incidentally been sent to the labor camps responsible for rebuilding the city wall. The city wall that _you_ broke, of course, _Commander._ ”

                  Chagrined at her family’s loathsome fate, she swallowed the lump in her throat and composed herself. “What exactly did my father do for our entire family to suffer like this, Your Majesty?”

                  As if her words were particularly insulting, the King’s brow furrowed immediately, and his crimson irises glistened predatorily as he changed tracks and began stalking her in a circle, like a lion attempting to butcher a particularly dangerous hyena, “Treason. Your father committed treason. He killed women in my harem. Who knew what that dull-witted scum was thinking?”

                  Gritting her teeth, she continued listening to the King berate her father, who had been a loyal, proud high-ranking official for the majority of the previous king’s rule. True enough, she and her father had a bitter relationship, and the last time they’d seen each other was when he swore to disown her before she left for the army. However, her mind couldn’t fathom that a man like her father would ever find reason enough to kill women – the King’s women, no less.

                  When the King was satisfied with his list of criticisms, she merely nodded and said, “Then, what punishment do I deserve, Your Majesty? If giving me a heavier punishment than everyone else will clear my family’s name in Your Majesty’s mind, by all means…”

                  “If you readily set the terms of the punishment I gave, what kind of punishment would that be, _Commander_? Word tells me that these men of yours refuse to listen to anyone else’s orders, but that will have to change. Starting tomorrow, you will become one of my personal bodyguards, and abandon all your titles and distinctions within the elite forces.” The King stated proudly. “Tell me, has your misplaced pride been crushed?

                  “Very well. You may have rid the elite forces of me, but the men will only listen to one of their comrades. Even you, My King, cannot truly control them.” She replied coldly.

                  The King narrowed his eyes at carelessness. “Hmph. Even when you’re cornered and pinned down, you refuse to soften your words. I shall bask in the satisfaction that comes the day when you’re broken in.”

                  “Of course, My King.” She answered.

                  “If you understand, spend the rest of the day frolicking with your sisters before they become mine, mongrel!” The young king laughed maliciously before leaving the Great Hall accompanied by two palace guards.

*

                  A grave, awkward silence descended on the Great Hall as the Commander rose from her knee, and wordlessly, began to head for the exit.

                  “Dear sister, is that really you? Where are you going? We’ve waited for years for you to return, and now you turn your back to us without so much as a word?” The melodic, yet grief-stricken voice of one of her older sisters, Mana, cried out.

                  “What do you want me to say in this situation? Rather than waste spit and time talking and moaning about our misfortunes, I’m going to try and _fix_ things.” She uttered acerbically.

                  “Sister, please, all we want for now is your presence! We can fix things later! Just let us see your face and feel your warm embrace!” One of her younger sisters, Tila, pleaded.

                  Feeling her exterior crack slightly, she sighed exasperatedly and turned around, regarding her family in silence. Nine years of being apart from them had created an unfathomable rift between their hearts. She had no idea what was appropriate to say. Should she greet them? Ask them how they’ve fared? Apologize for her arguments with Father?

                  Seeing her slight change in attitude, her sisters hurried to her side, encircling her in smothering hugs and kisses. Using a hand to gently brush away some of her sisters’ displays of affection, she said, “So, who’s to be the King’s whores?”

                  Swatting at the Commander’s right shoulder for her brazen word choice around the younger girls, Ashme, her other older sister said, “Language! Gosh, have you learned how to talk like a man now? Mana and I will be the ones. Sherzi, Tila, and Amare are to work as maids.”

                  “It’s a relief that His Majesty hasn’t acquired deviant tastes…yet.” She quipped rather sarcastically.

                  “Sister! Has your mind become as filthy as the other male soldiers’? Come now, show us what you look like! Let us see how beautiful you’ve grown!” Mana reprimanded before her expression softened to an almost motherly one.

                  For the first time since their reunion, the Commander studied her older sister’s face. _How ironic. I just noticed how beautiful Mana has become. I’m… rather jealous. How fortunate she is… to be able to freely display and flaunt her feminine charms._ Catching her sister’s searching hands as she snagged her dangerous thoughts, she took her sister’s pale hands briefly in her bronze ones. “Another time. I know I haven’t been present in the family for almost a decade. But I swear to you, I will make that arrogant bastard set you free. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

                  Feigning surprise at the Commander’s nickname for the King, Mana gasped and dissolved into giggles.

                  “This isn’t a time to be laughing!” The Commander insisted heatedly.

                  About to respond light-heartedly, the main doors of the Great Hall reopened, and a cluster of maids rushed to her sisters’ sides, ushering them away for some other matter.

                  As she moved towards the doors, Mana threw her an apologetic look, and said teasingly, “Sister, you ought to use a little perfume! You smell like a horse!”

                  When the doors shut with a firm thud, the Commander resisted the urge to shout in frustration. _That idiot. How can she think about appearances at such an importune time? Sometimes it’s a wonder that she’s my older sister. There_ has _to be some way out of this mess. Perhaps the people of Uruk will rally around me, if I bring to light all the mistreatments he’s done to his servants, people, and Father! I’ll expose his crimes for all eyes to see! Or better yet…I’ll assassinate the King myself! Gilgamesh, you fucking coward!_


End file.
